The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)

It was Spears speaking, naturally. What course?

“The old besom will turn on Jessie as soon as she realizes her dear James married her,” Sampson said. “Of course, then she won’t be able to fire all her cannon at the poor Duchess.”

“It sounds likely,” Badger said. “Would you like more tea, Maggie?”

“Thank you, Mr. Badger. You’ve put some soothing herb in it, haven’t you?”

“I have, Maggie. It will make you sleep. It will make all of us sleep. The good Lord knows we’ll need it to deal with all the myriad problems that seem to abound here.” He yawned discreetly behind his hand.

“Just fancy,” Maggie said as she sipped her tea, “we’re in the Colonies.”

“Yes,” Spears said, “and it’s three o’clock in the morning and all of us were prowling around and are now in the kitchen trying to address all the damnable problems.”

“What have you all decided?” James asked, coming into the large room.

“James,” Spears said comfortably, rising from his chair at the head of the large table, “you should be with Jessie.”

“I was, but she’s ill and I’ve come here to find her something to settle her stomach.”

“I made some more unyeasted bread,” Badger said, and rose to cut it and wrap it in a napkin.

“What have you all decided?” James asked again, eyeing each of them in turn.

Spears, looking as elegant as ever in a brocade dressing gown of dark blue velvet, said, “Do sit down, James. We discovered that none of us could sleep, except for Mr. Sampson, who is fortunate enough to sleep standing in a corner if he must. We decided to come out here and have a bit of tea and conversation. It’s good that we did. We’ve come to a decision about Your Mother.”

“Do you plan to strangle her and drop her into the Patapsco River? What about the poor fish?”

“That’s a satisfying thought,” Maggie said. “Too bad about the fish.” She looked glorious in a peach confection that would look more natural worn by a rich man’s mistress. Her red hair was loose. She looked delicious and knew she looked delicious. “How can it be that you’re so nice, James, and she’s such a terror?”

“It’s a mystery,” James said, seated himself, and accepted a cup of tea from Badger.

“I will speak for Mr. Sampson. Your mother, James, will make Jessie’s life miserable,” Maggie said. “We will protect her. Whenever your mother visits, all of us will take turns being with her so that the old bi—, er, the old lady doesn’t whack her off at the knees.”

James looked around the table at the three servants who weren’t really servants and knew they cared as much about Jessie now as they did about the Duchess, Marcus, and him. He was profoundly grateful. He said, “The house is not what any of you are used to. I’m sorry that your accommodations are so inferior, but I ran out of money once I had dwellings for my servants built and the stables and paddocks redone.”

“Where did the servants live before if not in houses?” Badger asked.

“They were slaves,” James said. “They’re all black and they were slaves. They were nothing but property. They were abused. Husbands and wives were separated. Children were taken from their parents. I hate slavery. As soon as I bought the property, I freed all of them and began paying them wages. They lived in huts that the filthiest rodents avoided. I had to build them decent housing. I had to.”

“Quite right,” Spears said. “Don’t you agree, Maggie?”

“I think James is a man with a conscience. Just fancy, and he’s half American and not all English.”

“Yes, fancy that,” Badger said.

“I’ll let you decide which is my best half,” James said, laughed, and drank down his tea. He took the wrapped napkin from Badger, bid them all good night, then said over his shoulder, “There’s not just my mother. There’s also Jessie’s mother. They never perform a duet. They always come at you from opposite directions. You’ll be pleased to know that my mother also bullies Jessie’s mother. They were girls together, evidently.” He smiled at their collective consternation and took himself back to his wife, who was huddled in the middle of his bed, breathing through her nose.

“Jessie told me,” Spears said after James had left, “that her father was bound to provide a dowry for her. That should be ample to bring the house up to snuff.”

“We have two mothers to worry about?” Maggie said, then sighed deeply, leaning her elbows on the kitchen table.

“It’s all right, Maggie,” Spears said, “we’ll figure everything out.”

“We always do,” Badger said. “Tomorrow I must find a recipe for conch chowder.”

The dreariness of James’s red-brick Georgian house was very apparent the following morning when everyone was seated in the dining room with its old table and twelve chairs whose cushions had once been a vivid blue and were now a tattered blue-gray. The walls needed paint and new wallpaper, and the carpet on the floor was clean but so old it was splitting apart.

James was embarrassed, mumbling as he seated his wife at the foot of the table, “I bought the property from Boomer Bankes. He’d been a widower for many years. He paid no attention to the house. I’m very sorry, Jessie, Duchess.”